


To Rise or To Be Torn Apart

by sleep_dep



Series: The Overworld Needs A Break [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A Look At Philza Before He Became the God of Skies :), Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Gen, Light Angst, Temporary Character Death, TommyInnit Has Wings, Wilbur's Past Is Just Sad Man :/, you call these tags i call it warning of my bad writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_dep/pseuds/sleep_dep
Summary: How does one become an immortal being? Is it luck or destiny? Or do they simply roam the Earth since the start of time without an explanation?AKA how Techno, Wilbur and Tommy became/are gods.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: The Overworld Needs A Break [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016959
Comments: 16
Kudos: 334





	To Rise or To Be Torn Apart

**Author's Note:**

> For "graphic depictions of violence", it's honestly not that bad, but I'll put the tag there just in case.  
> -  
> You see, this piece has been sitting in my drafts before I even listened to the song that made me get up and write the God/Godesses AU. I was just scrolling through my Google Docs, cleaning some school stuff out, came across it and immediately went: well, I'll thank my past self later. Why? Because my past self already wrote it. 
> 
> I just changed some details and finalized it. 
> 
> No biggie. 
> 
> ....I wonder if my Google Docs has more ideas stuffed all the way at the bottom of this mess of files.

For a mere mortal to challenge such a foe, it's admirable but reckless. The smell of blood never fails to linger no matter how hard he tries to rid himself of it. The scars, big and small, always succeed in reminding him how much he's been through and have yet to experience. 

He swings his sword to block while throwing his torch, setting fire to the unholy beast. He's never seen anything like it. Two huge horns on either side of its head, a glowing purple crystal hovering between its horns. Scales litter its body and as it stands on its hind legs, a mouth opens wide to reveal sharp canines. 

Gasping, he dodges the flaming serpentine tail that stretches and lunges at him. Narrowly avoiding the acid that drips from its mouth, the droplets melting the ground he stands on. The ground shakes as the beast collapses back down. 

He stumbles but regains his balance and continues running, trying and failing to think of a plan that could possibly give him the upper hand. 

Trying his best to observe the beast he's facing while exerting energy, he collects as much information possible. It has no eyes, no ears and no nose. How is it alive? He doesn't know. It certainly isn't any normal animal and it's a hybrid of many combined. 

He hisses as sharp fangs sink into his side. His left hand immediately flies to cover it, but instead he controls himself and allows his hand to hover over it instead. 

There's no possible way to treat his wound. He can't stop moving no matter what. The trees are too tall to climb and there aren't any bushes he can take cover behind or dense thickets he can hide in. 

He sighs as his body continues to grow more tired by the second and eventually he stops. 

If he was going to die, he might as well try to bring the beast down with him, right? Such a reckless thought. 

Twisting his body, he faces his demise with a frown. The beast rushes straight towards him and he backs himself to the trunk of a tree. Holding the sword above his head, he plunges his sword into the crystal between it's horns and squeezes his eyes tight, hoping that it would work. 

The teeth of the beast bites into his legs as it throws its head back, a thunderous roar ringing throughout the area. 

The acid starts to choke his throat and he coughs, allowing him a final look at… nothing. The pain from his legs starts to grow numb and his eyesight blurs. His skin burns as the flames licks his frame and finally, his eyes slide shut despite how hard he wills it not to. 

+

Philza watches as life slowly drains from the man. He purses his lips and turns towards his King, silently gesturing a hand at the sight they were witnessing. 

"May I?" He asks, his voice steady and firm. As the God of Survival, instead of encouraging to live, he snatches their life away. He has never experienced anyone fight back. They simply give in without a fight, welcoming Death with open arms. 

For once, he wants to try to encourage. 

His King stays silent and contemplates. Finally, he gives a nod. 

Philza takes a deep breath and reaches into the mortal realm, hooking onto the soul of the man. He slowly lifts his hand and the soul rises to Heaven. 

A cough is heard soon after as the man rises in panic. Philza kneels by him and places a soothing hand on the man's back. Slowly, the cough dissipates and Philza finally speaks. 

"You've done a good job." 

+

He stares at the man, angel, whatever, in distrust and a frown takes over, his grip on his sword tightens. A good job? Of killing the beast? 

He's supposed to be dead, not alive and breathing. He wants answers to the questions bouncing around in his mind. He glances around at the grand room he's in. Thrones loop around the room and gold pillars are shielded by glass carvings. 

Turning back to the man, he opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a cough. Immediately, he covers his mouth with his hand, trying to force the coughs down. 

His mind is suddenly blank and all that remains is the echo of a deep rumbling voice. Technoblade's eyes widen in surprise when he hears it. 

_"Welcome, God of War."_

++++++

A young man strums his guitar silently as he stares out the window, sighing. Everyday he's been seeing shadows enter and leave his house. He felt the aura of negativity surrounding certain people. 

He tries and he tries and he tries to ignore this ability granted upon him. He always tries to interact with these people in hopes of gaining answers. He has to as these people are his family after all. 

He fails every single time. 

+

Brother is a kind soul. The young man sings quietly as he strums his guitar, watching as a weak smile takes over his brother's face. 

He sings louder, his voice shakes. The tune becomes haunting. The room is bright, but it's becoming darker by the second as the shadows enter the room. 

He glances out of the corner of his eye as Mother dearest shakes in grief. As Father dearest stands by the bed, gripping onto his brother's hand. 

The strumming stops and he covers his mouth with his hand, muffling the choked sobs threatening to escape his mouth. 

The shadows now cover every wall of the room. He watches as his brother gently lifts his hand and waves at him, a small bittersweet smile on his face. The shadows urge his brother out of the room and the young man's tears drip onto his brother's bed sheets as he abandons his guitar. 

Slowly, he lifts a hand to brush against his brother's cold cheek, only for it to be slapped away. He lifts his gaze to his father and purses his lips as he feels his anger pierce into him. 

The shadows enter the room once more as fury takes over his father. Hands wrap around his throat and he chokes. His hand wraps around a wrist and he pulls. 

Muffled tortured screams reach his ears and through blurry vision, he sees his mother screaming. She doesn't make a move to stop his father. Instead she cradles his brother's corpse in her arms, wailing. 

He understands. It's okay. His grip loosens on the wrist as he smiles painfully, crying freely. 

+

He gasps as he stumbles, shivering. He looks around the place he's in. A reflection of himself stares back at him and he touches his cheek. 

It feels cold. 

The walls floor is black polished marble. The walls are a monochrome mixture of colour. Tearing his eyes away, he focuses on the dark throne that sits ominously in the middle of the room. 

A man appears next to the throne in a burst of black, green and red dust. Green and red eyes stare back at him. A mask covers the bottom half of his face. His blonde hair shines under the ghostly blue light. 

He chokes as the man speaks in a gentle voice that reminds him of his deceased brother. 

"Ascend the throne, Wilbur." 

++++++ 

The boy listens as his classmate tells him about her secrets. Everyday, someone would approach him and spill their secrets. He doesn't know why, but they just do and he listens. Something within him locks together each time someone spills yet another secret to him and it feels like the worst or deeper the secret, the heavier the lock. 

After a long day, he dumps his bag in his room as he slowly removes his shirt and spreads his wings. He becomes startled as they give a small flap and for a moment, he's lifted off the ground. He drops back onto the floor and puts his shirt on, quickly tucking them back under his shirt. They've appeared on his back 2 weeks ago and he's completely sure that this isn't normal. 

-

Father and mother said he's truly their son, he thinks while taking a sip of his soup. Yet, he knows the truth. He looks nothing like them. His bright blue eyes compared to their coal black ones. His blonde hair compared to his mother's raven hair and father's light brown. 

He has no distinct memories of them or anyone taking care of him since he was young. He came first step foot into this house when he was 8 and that's when he started making memories. Now, he's 14. 

He scribbles a few words onto the parchment, the candlelight flickering in the dark. He glances at the weird piece of machinery he picked up from the side of the road a week ago. 

Pursing his lips, he opens his drawer and pulls out the round, flat object that he brought back along with it. 

He's never seen anything like it. Honestly, it feels like it isn't supposed to be in this timeline. He places the round object onto the machine and hesitantly moves a part of the machine on top of the object. 

Soft music starts to play and he listens quietly. He starts to hum the tune to himself and slowly he quietly drifts off to sleep. 

+

A month later, he's standing in a clearing located in the middle of the woods not far from the village he lives in. He's tired of everything: hiding his wings is becoming more difficult, listening to the secrets and dealing with his now strained relationship with his parents and the drama around his friendships. The secrets are getting harder and harder to keep. Each day they become more darker and deeper than the last. He always feel responsible for those bastards that couldn't keep their mouth shut. 

"I don't know what to do," he mumbles to himself. He sits on the ground while hiding his face in his hands. The wind blows a little stronger and he pulls his cloak around himself, shivering. He looks up towards the setting sun and a small but hopeful thought flashes through his mind. _What if I can get out of here?_

-

That night he found himself back at the clearing, a bag in his hand filled with food, water and spare clothes plus any other necessities he might need. He drops his bag and takes a deep breath. This would be his first time flying as he was too scared to try, afraid that the villagers would kick him out or even worse, burn him. 

He scans around, making sure that nobody would be here to witness him before jumping a few times. His wings flap a little and he frowns while being lifted slightly off the ground. He repeats the actions a few times but the most he's managed is getting a feet off the ground and hover in his spot for a minute or so. Sipping his water, he listens to the crashing of waves near a beach not far from here. 

With that, he has a reckless idea that could get him killed. 

He grabs his bag and makes it to the edge off a cliff. Glancing down, strong waves crash against the rocks. The sea stretches out into an inky black, the only thing illuminating it's surface is the moon. He walks a little further from the cliff's edge while securing the bag and making sure it's contents wouldn't fall out. _Now or never._ With that, he turns around and runs straight towards the edge, squeezing his eyes shut as he dives off the cliff. 

He feels the cold wind rush against his face and he loses confidence as he feels like he's been falling for a while. Extremely scared, that's what he feels now. His limbs have gone numb and his mind was blank. 

The freezing, icy water never came.

He peeks open his eyes and look below him. He sees dark murky water (that he thankfully isn't in) and hears the sound of flapping behind him. He glances behind him before letting out a loud whoop, his hands shaking as they clutch onto the bag strap. Curling in on himself, he quietly thanks whatever entity out there watching over him before he angles his body and tries to figure out how to turn, dive and well, fly in general. 

He gets it after a few minutes and starts flying a little higher. He's currently rushing over the lapping waves of the sea, a huge grin on his face. The wind whips through his hair and he does a few twirls in the air. He doesn't know how long has he been flying for but he doesn't feel tired at all. 

His happiness turns into content as he watches the sun rise, signifying the start of the day. 

_How far am I from the village?_

He smiles to himself. Yeah, he's probably pretty far. With that, he barks out a laugh. 

He has never felt so free. 

+

Philza watches from his throne as the the young god fly closer and closer to the palace. 

He sighs as he remembers the first time he picked up a new God. A few decades later, the King has finally decided to hand over the title to and he'd chosen him. It's been awhile now. 

Over time more gods and goddesses popped up around the world. He allowed them to slowly explore the Overworld before finding their way here. Although, he didn't expect him to make it to this point this fast.

Techno sits next to him, chatting with Wilbur, the God of the Dead that ascended the throne 2 decades ago. It was sudden, but he guesses that even a god can become tired. 

Everything grew silent when the young boy timidly stepped into the room. His wings tucked behind him. 

Tommy stares right at him before tearing his eyes away to observe the room. Wilbur glances at him before moving towards him, giving him a warm smile. Techno keeps his distance and let's Wilbur do the talking. Finally, he sighs and sidles up to the man he considers his brother. 

After a few minutes of chatting and a few surprised exclamations from Tommy, they all finally turn to face him. 

Tommy suddenly takes off and hovers around him. Wilbur calmly tells the young god to calm down but Tommy doesn't listen. 

"So, we're gods? Immortal beings? Is that why I have wings? What am I the god of?" Tommy questions. 

Philza patiently answers his questions. Techno and Wilbur silently watch and occasionally chuckle as Tommy flies around Philza, bombarding the poor god with never ending questions. 

Philza finally gets to breathe when Tommy calms down from their high and land next to Wilbur. 

He gives him a warm smile. "Tommy, God of Secrets, we welcome you."

**Author's Note:**

> For starters, I'm sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. The only reason I'm able to post this much is because:  
> 1\. QUARANTINEEEEEE  
> 2\. I am bored  
> 3\. I'm very bored.  
> 4\. FOR ONCE MY MOTIVATION KICKED IN I MIGHT AS WELL. 
> 
> IN SUMMARY, IN THIS AU-
> 
> Mortals can become a god because of an admirable feat - and luck, honestly, if any major god didn't see shit, WELL THEN DIE A MORTAL (Technoblade. The beast he was fighting was actually allowed to be seen by mortals on PURPOSE, just gonna say, a lot of people died because of it, cough).
> 
> Can be chosen beforehand as a successor to take over a god's role (Wilbur Soot. Man really didn't have a good time being the successor of the God of the Dead while being alive in the Overworld, ee . ) 
> 
> Born out of pure need (like Tommy and Tubbo. They're here because enough number of people prayed for their secrets to be safe / truths to be revealed, that they basically manifested them. Wild). 
> 
> Or finally, two gods do the deed. End of story. I can't believe I had to type that sentence in like, a public story. Oh goodness. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Thank you for the support (kudos and comments) on my previous stories. I look forward to delivering more content :D


End file.
